


we love like dying stars

by wookies



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Plot, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-04-28 11:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14448822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wookies/pseuds/wookies
Summary: Poe says the universe will end in one of three ways:a) the universe will expandb) the universe will collapsec) the universe will remain as it is, only without lifeFinn wishes Poe would stop thinking, and start looking up.





	1. Rey indirectly introduces Finn to what muses can only wish to be

**Author's Note:**

> "First time I heard your voice / moonlight burst into the room / and i saw your eyes / and i saw your smile / and the world opened wide / and the world was inside of me."  
> \- No One Else, _The Great Comet_

"You are a prince. Your job is to rule over the citizens of this land, control with an iron fist, and expand our boundaries indefinitely. You will grow to be a king who wears a mighty and unbreakable crown. There is no reason to stray from this goal due to trivial distractions, no matter what they be. They are all nonsensical. Distractions and obstacles will become just that - distractions and obstacles, meant to be overcome. Your choices are weighted with the lives of thousands, and I will not allow you to throw my kingdom to our enemies, such as a bone to rotten dogs. Do you understand, Finn?

Do whatever is necessary for the prosperity of this kingdom. The end of your life will show results, good results. For everything is right, in the end."

\---

Prince Finn does not understand many things, but he is learning. Some lessons come more natural than others: signing documents to seize farmland, commanding a staff to prepare a banquet large enough for half the kingdom, sidestepping his father in the castle-- but swords are going to become his downfall. 

When Rey convinced him the previous morning that sword practice would be beneficial to him - _"You could, I dunno, run out of arrows or something. You have, like, three." "I definitely have at least four."_ \- he had expected a lesson of sorts. He'd hardly held a sword long enough to use it. A demonstration of the basic maneuvers would be an obvious starting point. 

Rey did not think so. As soon as Finn proved he could pick up and hold a sword, she deemed him ready to enter battle. And boy, does she not hold back. Her swordsmanship has granted her a noble title for a reason, and Finn has never truly learned why until this moment. 

Rey's blade is close against his neck, his own sword completely abandoned across the grounds. She looks to him with a humorous glint in her eyes, a challenge ready to spring from her lips. Finn speaks before she has the chance:

"No, no - wait. This isn’t a duel. A duel is an even match, which is very much not this. Look -" Finn is hyperaware of the blade driving into his neck. "Hey! Watch your sword!"

Rey loses the adrenaline from beating Finn mercilessly and seems to realize she could end him. Her sword drops to her side as she takes a suave step back and holds her arms out, raising an eyebrow. Finn rolls his eyes and reaches up to touch his neck - no cuts, _thanks_ Rey.

"It will be an even match, Finn. You've gotta get used to the feel of the blade, you know?" 

"Maybe you should start by teaching me how to use a sword. That might help me, I dunno, stay alive in battle. And make me feel a whole bunch cooler while swinging." 

"I've seen apes with better stance and direction than you."

" _Geez_ Rey-- "

"And practice is the best lesson there is! That's how I learned." Her eyes are alight with a vision. Finn wagers her mind has drifted to the future: Finn leading a fully-capable brigade in a siege against the Empire, with herself standing by his side. She's wiping away tears, waving her handkerchief and sending her young soldier (who grew up too fast, you know?) into battle, then grabbing a sword herself and charging for the front lines once her daydream self remembers _oh yes, I am Rey and would never consciously exclude myself from a proper fight, where is my sword_ \-- 

"No," Finn says, shaking his head before she can get herself started. "Not when you're used to fighting from far away. Swords are a much different breed than bows - and I, for one, have perfect aim thanks to those guys. So I don't trust your assessment of me one bit. Also, I don't think I've ever tried to slice anything with this much weight to it. It's like an oversized dinner knife." 

"Stop complaining and square up, Finn. I'll try to go easier on you." Rey says. Finn doesn't think she even believes herself after a claim that daring. 

"Don't kill me. That's your limit, got it? Death - dying is bad. Dying is very very bad, and I'd very much not like to die here, in the sand. God, it'd get all in my blood and then it'd clump together and my last sight would be goddamn sand-- "

"You know you'd be buried in it too, right?"

"Oh, what a bitch!" 

Rey twirls her sword in the air, light glinting off rubies and citrine embedded in the hilt. She stands her ground.

Finn crouches and raises his sword in a somewhat defensive stance and waits for Rey to make the first move. Which she does, straight into Finn's arm. He makes a sound that would put howling cats to shame and throws back his arms, the sword flying into the dirt brick wall of the training room. Rey makes a grab for Finn's forearms until he snatches them away. He cradles one against his chest and furrows his brows at her. 

"You almost stabbed me!" Finn says. 

Rey stops short and stares at him. "Almost? So I didn't hurt you?" At Finn's affirmative that, no, she hadn't just handicapped the next in line, Rey throws her hands up and begins to pace.

"Then why are you shouting?! I didn't even get you! And you look as if I've violated your personal space. Drop that scandalized look from your face. Ugh, why are you so dramatic?"

"I picked it up from the best." 

At that, Rey gives his shoulder a shove. Finn stumbles, catching himself on the wall's thick netting, and rounds back on her. He kicks at her feet, but Rey anticipates his limb with ease. Each attempt Finn gives is shut down without hesitation. In moments, Rey has him pinned against the ground, left arm and right leg caught in her brazen grip. He can hear her laughing too, the nerve.

"What kind of teacher - " Finn grunts as some semblance of pain spreads in his knee, and he pounds his fist into the sand. 

"Alright, stop it! I've got it, I suck at everything and you will always exceed expectations. You _can_ and _will_ kill me without breaking a sweat." 

He kicks sand in her general direction when she does nothing but laugh louder, slouching back on his aching knee. "Hey, hey! Beat it, Rey!" 

She ceases laughing long enough to remove herself from him, then extends a calloused, sandy hand. Indents from her sword are carved into her soft palm and her nails are bitten to almost a stump. He looks to her face and sees a lazy smile, raised eyebrows and a face full of excitement. Finn allows himself to be help up, then is less than shocked when he laughs with her. 

Days like these are what reminds Finn that it's not him against a sea of unknown enemies. He doesn't have to worry about choosing wrong for Rey (she wouldn't listen to him anyway) because she is not a dreaded choice waiting to be called upon. Rey is breaks after breakfast in the sun, running through sparse trees in a land far from the kingdom, a heartbeat to fall asleep with at night. She's not his, she's not anyone's. She is, she just is, and that's all Finn could ask for.

Rey's wide eyes gaze back at his and her voices slips out as a whisper. "Let me tell you a secret: I did not learn to control my sword."

Finn throws his head back. "Of course not. Let me guess, your sword learned to control you?" 

"No," and through a soft smile, she says "I don't control my sword. I never control it, and I never will. The balance is not to be upset by something as selfish as control. Years before, I had an awakening. My senses magnified and my eyes could open wider and I could see more, I could feel more. I am awake now. And you have it too, I can feel it. It's there, right between your heart but swimming in your veins, pushing your body closer and closer to what it's missing. I can show you, Finn. I can show you _the Force_."

After some assurance that Rey hadn't been sifting through sand for too long, Finn accepts, and Rey speaks of the Force. 

It's an ally stabbing where a soldier misses, moving arms and legs out of harms way with elegant fingertips. It's a shield and a sword, an antidote and a weapon, good and evil and everything its user is. Light or dark, the Force protects as an undeniable companion. Trees dance to its song, water flows from its push, the body exists through its existence. An invisible nature running entirely between and into everything. And at the night's arrival, when all has been lost in war, the Force brings back hope.

\---

High brick arches and golden lanterns shadow the passages to the armory. Sunlight manifesting itself through candles reflects as revolving jewels upon the wall, which look as if they're spun from pure gold. Auburns and golds blend together and breath life into the castle's still walls. As modest as Finn acts, the castle is a collection of extravagant bricks and displays its rubies, emeralds, and rich furniture around each corner. Voices and laughter filter through the halls, entering not as echoes but as if they come from next to you. Finn has never felt alone in his home, but still feels a separation between him and his staff. Every greeting he gives is met, but Finn can feel a brick wall slide away each time, then back into its permanent foundation after his retreat.

His fault is not with his inferiors, Finn tries to remind himself. His choices are necessary, they must understand that. 

Finn finds an empty doorway hidden in a low archway. A blanket covers the entrance, its edges frayed and middle scattered with tears and holes. He pushes the fabric aside and finds a set of stairs descending into the castle's underground. Unlike the remainder of the building, the dungeon is void of gold or glimmering bricks. Instead, the steps and walls are both made of similar standard clay bricks. They are dark and create an air of mystery and organized chaos in the dungeons, perfect to craftsmen but undesirable to the prisoners. Rooms are split between various working groups: merchants, blacksmiths, builders - you name it. Any skill worthy of a few coins earns a place in the Underground. 

Finn's father favors a heroic army, for which a steady and reliable supply of weapons is needed, hence the King's obsession with armories. Many lie under the castle and interact as they please. Finn reckons they have their very own set of rules and a system, much like the actual kingdom. Things work differently in the armories and the need for weapons contradicts any opposition to how the craftsmen perform.

In other words, Finn doesn't have the upper hand for once. 

Faint lights comes into view and Finn finds himself at the base of the stairs. He peers his head around a corner and is met with a hazy, expansive room similar to marketplaces he ventured as a child. Burnt orange archaic arches separate actual prison rooms from workstations, as well as more carpets. These are finer than the ones upstairs, some even dripping purple and red fabric from their ends. Light explodes from every end and raucous voices talk over the sound of clanking-- _what tools are those?_ Finn's head spins with fascination and smoke, as it usually does in his brisk visits down here. His mind can't keep up with every creation taking place, every strange action or unusual object that entertains him. At one point, Finn stretches over dozens of heads to see what he believed to be a camel, but what might actually be a llama, or strange horse-- 

A shove in his back and shout to _get outta the way, kid!_ reminds him of the task at hand. He draws the strings of his bag open, slipping his fingers in to trace the blade of his sword. They cut from the tip along the edge, all the way to the middle, where they dip down into a jagged curve. He feels around until his grasp reaches the other half of the snapped blade. 

Rey's voice echoes in his head - _third one on the left, even you can't miss it. And for god's sake, don’t you put the blame on me. If not for your faulty swordsmanship_ \- and he tries to remember if she meant a door, rug, or plain-old hole in the wall. 

He navigates the maze of craftsmen and merchants and animals until he reaches a giant wooden board with a sword skillfully etched onto the front. An arrow on the sign points to an open doorway decorated with a honey rug. It's pushed aside by a nail in the wall, and if that's not welcome enough, a woman spots Finn gawking in the doorway. She leaps over to him and yanks his arm until his entire being is inside.

"What's this supposed to be?" Finn says. 

The woman rests her hands on her hips and regards the room with confusion. "Whad'ya mean, o'Prince? This here is the finest establishment the Underground has to offer!"

A voice from somewhere close by shouts, "Try again!" 

"Shut it!" Finn's companion says. She looks sheepishly back to Finn, then raises a welcoming arm to the rest of the room.

"I just need-- "

"This here is the quickest, bustling, best-hold-your-britches-cause you'll-wanna-buy outlet outta all those other blacksmith whatever's. Feast your eyes, Prince. Every sharp blade, rolling flails, taxiest axes are found here, and more! Let me show you around-- " she gestures to one of the many giant, clutter-filled tables around the room.

Speaking half to Finn, half to the guy working, she says "This here's, Ernie. He crafted the blade that slew the beast in the west! He runs a hard bargain, but for the Prince, I'm sure I can beat him til he softens like butter!" 

Finn shakes his head with purpose and tries to let this nice lady know that he does not want her to berate this old man into selling him a dragon-slaying sword (which does sound badass, no denying that), but she cuts him off once again.

"If you're looking for someone to dispose of something you've already accidentally - or un-accidentally done - worry not! Let me give you the pleasure of meeting Grenda, who'll hide any body for the low low price of-- "

And because Finn thinks that she truly did mean any body, one person, and not anybody, a group of very much alive people, he coughs awkwardly and points to his bag. The girl's grin widens somehow, and suddenly she's snatched Finn's bag and is riffling through it, almost like a bird to an abandoned turkey leg. She holds a cracked blade to misty orange light, then pats it against the table. The tip breaks off, and Finn starts to freak out even more because Rey is not going to believe that the blade falling apart even more had, in fact, nothing to do with his own inexperience, before the girl shrieks with excitement. 

"Whad'ya need? A fix-up or new blade, o'Prince?" 

"A, uh, fix-up please. My friend broke my sword after, well, stabbing me. Or the wall beside me. Basically the same thing when your head can almost mind meld with the blade, it's so close." 

"Hey, alright! Now we're in business! Let me bring you to terms with the sharpest blacksmith we've got going here. A legendary leader, some might say. Others, a man with no limits, who's brave enough to venture to any height or depth just for an interesting tale. A god among mortals! Diamond in the rough, genie in a bottle, beauty in the beast-- " 

"Beatrice, leave him alone," a voice says, coming from behind Finn. He flinches, which is embarrassing enough, and he turns to greet the stranger.

And he is _glorious_ :

Silk hair curling across a tanned forehead, dark eyelashes fanning dark eyes - they resemble wood, cozy like a house lost deep in some woods far away from this retched land, but transform to the castle's most expensive, pure gold when hit by the lanterns lining the ceiling. His jawline is perfect, his lips are perfect, and even his _goddamn teeth_ looked chiseled by the gods themselves. Those rich eyes are looking back at Finn, until they're not. They shoot somewhere behind him (Finn has no clue where since he's currently occupied trying not to drown in this guy's godly radiance) and then graze along Finn's body. 

And at that moment, Finn would not be able to tell if a lantern had combusted unto his head because his entire being feels like it's been struck by lightning. And-- wait, now his eyes are darker and his brows are furrowed and he's crossing his arms, for some reason. And he gives Finn a look that carries great contrast to his friendly greeting gaze from before, and then looks behind Finn once more. 

"What's his deal, Beatrice?" he says. 

Finn wills himself to look back towards the girl in question. She holds Finn's bag up and shakes it, the sound of the sword rattling faint in the noise surrounding them. 

"Broke his friend's sword trying to stab them," she says with a shrug. And later, Finn will swear the floor melted away and he managed to stay standing from sheer willpower and bad-assery alone, but the truth is far from it. He jumps, arms coming forward to reassure the hot guy that he did not try to murder his friend and then admit to it, _what the hell_. 

"No! No - that’s, uh, no. Not right, actually. You see, she's just mixed it up, is all," Finn says, laughing nervously. Have these lights always been so bright and hot? He rubs at his forehead nervously and continues. 

"She tried to stab me. She's-- " And then inspiration strikes. 

"I was attempting to teach her how to use a sword since she's never so much as held one before. I-I've battled using one many times. Me? I'm skilled, you could say. I mean, I've fought before, loads of times. And. And I'm good because I swing it quick and my enemies don't even know what's hit them. This blade broke because it's, uh, _different_ than the ones I've swung around before. I mean, I've been in a battle before. Using a sword." And great, this is happening now. He's reduced himself to a rambling mess but no matter how many times he internally shoves his foot in his mouth, the words just keep tumbling out. "But I'd like a new one since this one _obviously_ wasn't holding up in fights. I mean, it's, uh, broken, you can see. Yeah? When my friend carelessly used it against me. But. But- Beatrice was wrong, I'd never purposely stab my friend. I'm skilled. I only use weapons by decree, and in-- " 

"In battle?" The guy interrupts. 

Finn feels breathless. "Yeah. In battle." 

They regard each other for a moment more, his arms still crossed, Finn now rocking on his feet. 

"So are you in charge around here or-- " 

"I'll take it from here, Beatrice. Go back out and make sure those papers are all delivered, will you?" 

"Yes, absolutely!" Beatrice beams. "I was heading out anyway. We're fresh outta wine, and this place is pretty stuffy sometimes. And be nice to the Prince!" The man's posture slips slightly at this, much to Finn's disappointment and confusion. "I talked a storm 'bout you earlier."

"Yeah, I heard," he managed. 

"Great! See ya, Poe!" Beatrice hands the bag to Poe and departs. 

Finn turns back to-- to Poe --and watches as he rifles through the bag as well. He pulls up a half, holds it to the light, then shakes his head and stuffs it back inside. 

"Follow me, _Your Highness_." 

\---

Poe's office is small: it's darker than the rest of the underground, with only one lantern sitting on his desk. Tables and bookcases cover the walls and mountains of rolled up scrolls and scraps reach the ceiling. A pile of broken blades and hilts in one corner, as does another desk. This one is neater, but contains twice as many books as Poe's. They're stacked next to a jar loaded with sticks, then another filled to the brim with buttons, alongside a dozen more holding unusual trinkets. A giant rug covers the floor, a strange orange symbol in its center. It's a circle cut like a crescent moon but from the middle sprouts a line of paint with decorated tips. The rug's faded and frayed at the edges and sports dirty footprints across the clear white of the fabric.

Finn turns his attention to the bookshelves, pretending not to notice Poe shoving piles of scrolls onto the floor. Three bookshelves face him and he searches for some sort of organizational pattern. To his lack of surprise, it doesn't seem to exist. Although, one shelf is much neater than the rest, its books stacked vertically, rather than whichever way they fall, and lacking dust. The spines are dark blue and falling apart, but Finn still makes out a title: " _The Space Around Us: A Brief Study_." Finn squints and moves onto the next book, wondering if the spine lacks as much sense as the first, when Poe speaks up.

"You can take a seat here, if you like." He says, begrudgingly. Finn accepts. 

A beat. 

"What type of books do you have here?" Finn says, gesturing to the tidy shelf. Poe glances at Finn for a second, then to the books. 

"Science books." And with some hesitation- "Space books. They're about space." 

"About what?"

Poe sighs. "The cosmos? You know, the Sun, we're on Earth-- " 

Finn's confusion prompts more exasperation from him. "Nevermind. It's new theories, is all. I picked them up in the next town over at some loony assembly. They're practically worthless." 

"You travel?" Finn asks. 

Poe gives a faint smile. "Sometimes I do. Not as of late, though." 

"Can't find anything better than here, right?" Finn jokes but Poe takes it in earnest, shaking his head. 

"Not yet. But I'm working on some stuff," he points to a stack of junk. "I've got plans, and I'm going to ride those plans as far as the ink will take me. It's getting cramped down here anyways. But I can't imagine you'd share the same thoughts."

Finn laughs, almost doubling over. "Poe, I'd say those are about the only thoughts I'm having these days. But... I can't leave. I've got too much to leave behind." 

"Like what? Taking care of us dead ends?" When Finn starts to argue, Poe cuts him off with a wave of his pencil. "You can admit it, no offense taken. I've seen the look in your knight's eyes when they stumble down here, their sneers on full display under their upturned noses. You'd think every last person was a filthly llama for how they act." 

Poe decides not to mention that the ratio of llamas to people he saw in the Underground wasn't far apart.

"They're only here to protect you. I've seen plenty of fights break out, most of them indescribably violent. You'd rather I let you kill each other--"

Poe sits back from his drawing and watches Finn more intently now. "We are our own knights. Fights are just an... election of sorts. See who's the bigger man out, who's worthy of whatever scraps they're haggling over. And your knights seem to be supporters of this silent arrangement."

"I've not seen this," Finn says, earning a not-surprised laugh from Poe. 

"Of course you haven't, Your Highness. You're too busy with your crown stuck around your eyes, sitting on a throne more than standing to protect it. And this-" he holds one sword half up. His lone candlelight reflects off the gems on the hilt, circling the pair in a kaleidoscope of deep reds and oranges. "This is not yours. You truly think I'm not acquainted with Rey?"

Finn flushes. He opens his mouth, then shuts it. Open again, then shut. Then, "I didn't know she was so familiar with the merchants here whereas they could picture her from the gems on her sword." 

Poe gives him a smile, all malice and no light reflecting in his eyes. "Of course we are. She speaks very highly of you, you know? She ever helps you do your job?" 

"If she did I'd be out of one. But she favors a more direct course of action, whereas I admire examining every possibility in a situation. Helps keep more people alive, you know. And since I can't possibly exercise control of every section of this kingdom, I advise the knights to do their duty. I apologize if they've done anything but." 

Poe looks at him, this time with a new purpose. He places the blade back in its pouch and crosses his arms, pencil bouncing against his elbow. Finn comes to the conclusion that he has never been more aware of where his hands are positioned, but for the sake of disproving Poe's potential theory that Finn is a snob, incompetent or _whatever_ , he watches Poe in a similar fashion instead of planting his face behind his hands. 

The noise of people working outside drowns into the room: every form of clanking, some high-pitched shrieks of excitement and some of great despair. Finn wonders how he missed those before. They seem impossibly loud, curses and obvious distress emitting from somewhere beyond. A horse whinnies. Something solid crashes against the ground. People haggle over what have you, and the Underground continues on, seemingly fine as always. Finn's overcome with the urge to search for more, to shield his eyes from these bright lights and know the people holding the flames.

Poe sighs and returns to his drawing. 

"That new guy, he's temporary, right? The one replacing your dad? Cause he sure is a goddamn sadist." 

"I'm sorry?" Finn's voice is weaker around the edges.

"Your dad's apprentice? The one keeping his crown warm while he's fighting for nothing--" 

_He's fighting. He's in the Empire. He's coming back._ Finn repeats this to himself, as he did so many times before. It floats in his head and echoes like a lullaby. 

"--And he's even worse than you two are. He's creating more of a wasteland down here, what with raising the demand for weapons in return for practically nothing. Yeah, it's " _dire times, now_ " or whatever. And now people are trading their jewels, their animals, their goddamn _homes_ , all for what? To try and live another day so they can do the exact same thing tomorrow. Building bigger and stronger weapons for nothing! Well guess what, buddy?"

Poe's leaning forward now, sketch abandoned and eyes burning with something akin to sparks from two sparing warriors. 

"We don't want your knights down here, we don't _need_ 'em. There's not enough life for chaos here, no person with value enough to erupt some bigger issue. No one's in charge and no one's moving up any ranks-- we're all underdogs cutting off our own legs to help you. And you all see us the same, am I right? Foaming at the mouth for a profit, for the crown upon your head, for the opportunity to drag the kingdom out from under your feet like a rug, right? Is that what you think we are, some kind of festering disease that needs to be contained? Is that why we're locked down here in our own graves?" 

Finn does not have the time to even start thinking of what to say to that. But of course, after a few seconds that feel like they were dropkicked from the highest tower, he starts to speak. 

"Uh, wow. Okay. Okay. Okay, that's a lot to unwrap there. How, how did- how long have you been waiting to throw that up?"

Poe combs his pencil-stained fingers through his hair, then rubs them down his face. When he turns to Poe, his eyes are boats in an ocean of darkness.

"I'll take the pay up front." He says, pushing his sketch to Finn. It's rough but holds intricate detail, almost like something done to serve as a distraction. The actual sword as a whole doesn't register in Finn's mind-- it _can't_ after that rallying speech. Gosh, he almost wants to decapitate himself and save Poe the trouble. Poe slouches in his chair and studies Finn with a burning glare. His eyes move to Finn's crown and stick to the jewels pinned around it. Something changes in his expression, something Finn can't place, and then he's staring Finn down once more. 

A beat. 

"Now?" Finn says. 

"Yes."

"I haven't payment with me, but I can bring it in the morning-- "

"Better at night. I'll have to rebuild, since you seem indisposed to purchase a new sword outside. It'll take another day, but I'll be done by nightfall." And quieter, "If I even get around to it at all."

"Oh. That's-- "

"Want me to weight it?"

Finn's brows furrow. _Weight it?_ "Weight it?"

"Yeah, weight it. It'll make it heavier, more powerful. You'll be better at those battles and maybe not break the next one." 

Finn's face flushes. "Oh. Right. Well - that's a good idea. Yes. You can weight the sword. That'd be better, actually. I can come down here with Rey and show it to her before we buy it, maybe bring a couple knights. You can preach to them, too--"

"No, thank you." Poe says. 

"Pardon?"

Poe's flipping through a book now, its pages filled with sketches of various weapons. His sleeves are rolled, one side of his hand covered with stony dark streaks, his pencil flitting between blunt fingertips. 

"I said no, thank you."

Finn sits stunned for a moment. Poe's ability to render him silent has been exclusively held by few people, and Finn's not so sure he's upset that Poe's joining the group. Or maybe he is. It's been one interesting night. 

Poe picks up that Finn won't be coming out of his comatose state for a while and elaborates on his response. "I don't make it a habit to socialize with royalty on a daily basis. Just a personal policy, hope you don't mind. However," he continues, rising and opening his door, "I have a partner who would be nothing short of ecstatic to be conversing with you _and others_ about more weighted swords in the future."

"Lando!" Poe shouts.

Less than half of the noise stops from outside. Someone yells back something, and Poe shakes his head, hands cupped around his mouth. "Lando!" once more. 

He opens the door wider, that long-missed heart-wrenching smile returning to his face, and ushers a man inside. He's taller than Poe, and therefore taller than Finn, by a good few inches, and sure does look nothing short of ecstatic to be in the same room with the Prince. 

He turns back to Poe and punches him in the arm. Finn jumps, ready to defend and attempt to recreate those sword skills he was caught bragging about, but Poe laughs and punches back. Harder. Lando lands further across the small room, then seems to trip on something and goes down with a short yelp. Poe rubs the back of his neck, smiles to himself, and bends down to pick up-- a cat?

Its orange and white fur is matted in the back but Poe's scratching it like it's made of the finest silk. He cradles the cat in his arms and gives it a good rub before unleashing it on Lando once more. Lando shouts half-obscenities (he makes eye-contact with Finn before the profanities ever come out), and stands, cape plastererd across his forehead. 

"Dameron!" he says, fist raised in a half-hearted, but fully sincere, scolding. He's facing the wall and yanking his cloak back into its proper place before turning, red-faced, to Finn. 

"Your Highness, I apologize for my associate's behavior. And any other inappropriate behavior he may have- wait, _definitely_ exhibited before my arrival. He's always making a fool of himself, causing a ruckus-- "

"Not me, Lando." Poe says with another lazy smile. 

Lando goes a more horrendous shade of red and murmurs under his breath, "Not in front of the Prince, Dameron. I don't care how you feel about them, I have a sort of reputation to uphold." 

And back to Finn. "What can we help you with, Your Highness?" 

Finn rests his arm on Poe's table and covers his smile with his fist. "Well, I'd really like a sword. A weighted one, I've learned. And Poe's promised-- "

"Not a promise-- "

"Reassured me-- "

"Nope."

"Poe said that he would fashion me one. And I would be obliged if you joined him." 

Lando's eyebrows shoot up, hands reaching for the sketches Poe made. "Of course, Your Highness! Right away! By midnight, I say!"

"You know we can't do that." Poe mutters from the doorway. 

"By morning, I say!" 

"Closer, but unfortunately, no."

"Dameron!" Lando says, losing his edge for a moment. He looks back to Finn, nerves running amok, hands wringing the scrolls. "Your Highness, by tomorrow night at the earliest, and a day before the army's arrival! Just in time to welcome them back! We would be honored to deliver it to you. _I_ would be honored to deliver it to you _personally_." 

Poe snorts, not even trying to hide his amusement at Lando's attempts to satisfy Finn. 

"No thank you, Lando. I can make the journey here myself. Tomorrow night, you say?" 

Lando grins with pride. "Of course, Your Highness. At our earliest."

"Well!" Poe says, clapping his hands together. "It's been a time talking with you, Your Highness. Best be on your way. Bet you have some royal duties to attend to, perhaps some imaginary duels to champion?" 

Finn wills the blush away from his face. "Yes, perhaps." 

"Great!" He opens the door even wider and gestures for Finn to show himself out. "We'll speak tomorrow."

"Yes, we will." Finn says, trying and failing to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

Finn reaches the door with Poe still there. He's leaning against the frame, hand on the knob and legs crossed. His eyes are to the cat, who's curling around his feet, tail flicking in loose lines. Poe looks to Finn and for a moment, their eyes meet. 

Something pulls Finn forward. It meanders through his legs, pushing at the back of his knees. He almost stumbles but roots himself, refusing to be a further embarrassment to himself. It weaves between his arms and blows his hair like the wind on a fair day. A gentle tug on his arm, then hand, then fingertips; they twitch and something different pulses in his veins, something alive but not quite, something with power but not fully awake. 

"Until tomorrow." Finn can't look elsewhere. Poe stares too, face blank. A rumble comes from above and the lanterns outside rattle against the ceiling. Sand falls through cracks and into Poe's gorgeous hair, and Finn can feel it reach his head too, goddamnit. Poe looks up with golden eyes - at Finn's crown, his hair, who cares - and for a split second-- for a _split second_ , a force comes alive in Finn. 

A shadow crosses Poe's features, his eyes darken once more, and the door shuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ocs mentioned in this chapter will not reappear! also, my inspo for Finn's castle: http://www.desertcastle.com/images/picsinorder/housefront/indexpic.gif
> 
> ik there are historical inaccuracies in here and i'm ok with that :) also, i'm not confident that weighted swords are a real thing, but for the sake of this story, enjoy these very real weighted swords! 
> 
> thank you for reading!!! :)


	2. Poe and his friends punch Finn with fists full of great justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've read this on or before 6/12, i suggest rereading the previous chapter! i've change a whole chunk of the middle section (basically Finn's conversation with Poe). enjoy!

After 3 hours of listening, Prince Finn begins to seriously contemplate whether Kylo Ren's death would be such a disappointment. 

After 3 and a half hours, he decides that it would not be. 

It's far too early in the morning for a lecture of how Finn _should_ be controlling his subjects, how Finn _should_ be sending more troops to fight the Empire after the exhausted batch arrives tomorrow night, and how Finn _should_ be managing supply of weapons with a tighter chain. These are all suggestions of course, oh I couldn't imagine myself forcing your hand in your own decisions, _Your Highness_.

Finn wonders how he _should_ dispose of Kylo's corpse without alerting the Knights outside his chamber. Through the window? But then he'd ruin the cacti lining the drawbridge. Finn could tuck him into bed, make it as if Kylo passed peacefully in his sleep. Although that's not believable, seeing as Kylo's never done anything _peacefully_ in the few months Finn's known him. Even now his tone is a small lid on a large glass, threatening to overpour and spill out words of uncontrolled rage. 

"In order for your father to be successful in his battle tactics, his kingdom needs to provide him with the necessary weaponry. His final order was for the Underground to mass produce weapons for our knights. Our merchants are slacking in their production, size and quality. What good quality we rarely get still only meets the bare minimum for our requirements. I suggest approaching this issue yourself, perhaps proving to the merchants their role here and how high the stakes are, exactly…" 

Kylo drones on as Finn sits with his head rested on crossed fingers. He's following a pacing Kylo with his eyes, giving enough eye contact to convince him that his mind is very much still on how they can manipulate the Underground to overproduce weapons with materials they don't have. 

His mind drifts to his previous conversation with Poe, about how their people are practically selling the skin on their backs to be able to afford what they could before the war. Finn did not believe this to be true at first. How could he, when his sights were on one side of the war. But now his head's been forced to the rear of the battle, back by the stragglers who barely know how to hold a sword (which is too relatable for him). 

His departure from the Underground was spent with sharp observations behind the colorful rugs and crowds of people. He stepped under their shawls, behind the crafts they built and into their conversations. No matter how _nonsensical_ these obstacles seemed to be, Finn discovered a darker secret between the hoops. 

Families with hands clasped knuckle-white among each member, their animals trailing behind them as they headed towards a butcher. A woman with uneven hair, almost as if several different people cut it, maybe at different times. Men fighting others after a bargain falls through; women with children, begging for _a few coins, please, this is all I can offer!_ ; men with children, children alone, stealing and running and failing to escape, being reprimanded a bit much for a taking a blanket. The people trading blankets repeating the same spiel to disinterested consumer after disinterested consumer (or sometimes interested consumer, but one fighting the same type of battle). 

In Poe's section, Finn left with earfuls of Beatrice luring in people who looked to have more than a dime on them- _"Every sharp blade, rolling flails, taxiest axes are found here, and more! Let me show you around-- "_

Lots of runs for more supplies. Lots of supply runs ended with nothing more than a few scraps of well-used material. 

_"We're all underdogs cutting off our own legs to help you--"_

"Your Highness? Your opinion?" Kylo says. 

Finn starts and looks up. His eyes adjust to Kylo's figure, taking into account his strained posture. He's hardly composing himself and his annoyance for this meeting. Finn finds the feeling mutual. 

"I am undecided," Finn says. 

Kylo resembles a bird with rattled feathers. He speaks at a whisper, "Undecided? But these people need to provide. We have no other outlet, no other source for miles around--"

"Because we're in the middle of the desert, Ren. If you've got an issue with that, get in line and take it up with the idiot who built this place out here." 

"Jakku is a land of great value. Even if you may not see it, others clearly do. Your father is working to keep those out of this land." Kylo's voice dips, less restrained. "You should appreciate everything he's given you. He's protecting your future, no matter how passionately you despise it." 

Finn stands, hands resting flat against the table in front of him. "My _future_ is of no concern to you. I don't see you in it, so stay out of it now." 

"And what have you if your father doesn't return? If he dies in battle, consumed by his own son's future, hm? What have you then? Will you welcome the Empire here with open arms, shouting your pleasure from the rooftops? Why not let them take this sandpit now and save your father the trouble? I'm sure he would have more to correct than your appreciation of the land." 

Kylo's hands form fists at his sides, his face slipping closer out of its brazen mask. "Others know the value here. The reward, my dear prince, is greater than we can see. If we assume our prince's mind and sit on our _asses_ with sand pouring out our pockets, then we surrender to the Empire. Your lack of judgement here is unprofessional and a disservice to all that’s being done to protect Jakku. If your judgement is clouded by-" a hand gesture outwards, "-trivial matters, maybe it be best to let war preparations be dealt with by someone with more concern." 

Finn laughs. Kylo starts, shock taking the place of his borderline rage explosion. 

"Our future doesn't rest with the value of the _land_ , Ren. Sand is sand anywhere else." He walks to Kylo and stands a few feet away. His composure of indifference is beginning to fade as Kylo's words embed themselves in Finn's mind. His duty to protect the land-- how can he do this if the people need protecting from the land itself? 

"The Underground is the future. It's the crux of this land, the wheel in Jakku's wagon. Without them, no matter the outcome of the war, I have no future here. And neither do you. So my _opinion_ isn't undecided. I'm just not sure you'd approve of it." 

Kylo's head dips down. He pauses for a second, then gives a hesitant bow. When his gaze reaches Finn's again, his eyes are narrow, harsher. They focus on Finn with something hidden in the expression. 

"Of course, Your Highness. My apologizes. I will dismiss myself." 

Finn nods. Kylo leaves. 

Kylo speaks of the Underground's people as distractions, but the crown has succeeded in nothing except distracting Finn from the very people he vowed to protect. Finn wonders if it's time he pulled the crown from around his eyes.

\---

"Poe's not here," someone yells at Finn when he tries to enter Poe's office. "I can go get Lando for you, though. I think he's busy ironing his cape."

Finn agrees and thanks them and stays next to Poe's door. 

Great. 

All his ideas of speaking to Poe about compromising-- to find a way to supply weapons, but also provide ample reward for their efforts --escaped him. Poe isn't _here_. It's obvious he wants nothing more to do with Finn, or royalty, as he pointed out yesterday. His possible chance to repair relations with the merchants is lost, shelved for another day (he might not have many days left, though). If the people are antsy and unresponsive and Finn's sat with his head up his ass for too long, then there will be no telling what will happen if they refuse to service the kingdom any longer. And if Finn's father fails in the war, and the Empire comes to snatch up the people, will they go willingly? 

He shakes his head. Kylo's gotten into his head, rearranged his thoughts, and planted more in. Nothing much matters if the people are unhappy with him, no matter the value of the land or severity of the war. 

And it's so goddamn _stupid_ , he knows. He's far too upset with Poe's absence than he should be, acting like a child who's told his friend can't come over to play. Or like a wife who's husband has abandoned her for better friends. Which scenario Finn relates to more doesn't matter-- Poe told him he'd be here, and now he's not. People lie, it's life. 

He continues on, as the Underground is doing around him. With a significant number of people absent as well, it seems. 

Finn has no time to ponder this strange development before Lando appears at his side, clothes clean but somehow disorderly. 

"Your Highness!" he says. "I apologize once more for my friend's behavior. Due to, um, overlooked events that, uh, swept from his consciousness, Poe is unavailable tonight. But _I_ have brought your sword!"

"Lando--"

"Here, I'll present it inside. This way, Your Highness--"

"Lando, are you telling me that Poe forgot about my request?" 

"Ha!" Lando laughs loud and long. Too long. 

A pause. 

"Of COURSE not, Your Highness! Poe is a, uh, a dimwit. He viewed other activities higher ranking than providing for you- which I would _never_ make the mistake of doing!" He gestures for Finn to take a seat. Lando takes the one Poe used yesterday. He's out of place in it, Poe recognizes. It's Lando's character-- too jovial and active for Poe, who worked like a scholar given a trivial assignment. Overqualified. Bored. 

Lando sweeps the strange rug from the center of the room-- it looks more like a bat with curved wings and a diamond head, now that Finn's got a second glance-- and reveals a hatch. He opens the hatch, releasing a wave of heat and, groaning with the effort, addresses Finn (if he wants, it's by no means an order) to remain where he is. Lando descends, shuts the door, and Finn waits. 

Well, he waits for all of 30 seconds. Then he moves to the bookshelf he'd seen yesterday, where Poe kept his _space_ books. 

Their shelf lacks dust, unlike many of the others, and contains a row of several dark blue books. The spines give titles that Finn cannot even begin to understand, but he attempts to anyway. He reaches a finger out and pulls a book by it's spine, all the while checking the hatch to ensure that Lando had not returned.

The book he selected has no title or author, only an expanse of stars on the cover. Dark hues of blue, gold, and black swirl to form elegant mist and loops around a collection of stark white dots. Finn notices the creasing at the tops of pages and fingerprint-stained ink marks when he opens the book. Wedged in the crease between two pages is a bookmark, which draws Finn's attention to the pages they mark. 

Nothing significant. They resemble every other page, in that sketches and graphs of various star charts, alignments, and other complicated material litter them. Squished between some sketches is handwriting-- compact, short, and some obvious to have been scribbled in a rush. Finn leans in closer, analyzing the words and trying to make sense of some of the scribbles, when Lando emerges from the hatch.

Finn throws the book behind his back, standing as to where Lando can't see the missing slot in the bookshelf. Finn's transformation into a ravenous beast may not have even startled Lando. His face giddy with excitement, he presents a thin blanket wrapped around what appears to be a sword to Finn.

"Here, Your Highness," he says with a grand gesture of removing the blanket. It gets stuck on the tip, which slices through the blanket, causing it to fall to the floor. Lando reaches for it before it falls and almost trips over the rug. With great effort, Lando separates the three tasks and takes them turn in turn: first, picking up the blanket, then fixing the rug, and finally presenting Finn with his sword. 

He laughs, nerves untamed. "Rubies from deep in the desert and some citrines from a river North of here. Fine gems, yes yes. And the hilt is perfectly rounded to capture your friend's-- or yours, it's perfect for you too-- grasp, and a stunning cascading guard. And the blade! Gold, you can see? Spun from Rumplestiltskin himself. Hmm? No- no, it's just a joke I enjoy. Ha. Alright, and a beautiful tip, sharp as the sun's glare." 

Finn makes _oohs_ and _ahhs_ where they are necessary, acting nothing but polite and appreciative. The blade is heavier than the one Rey gave him yesterday, but nonetheless stunning. Possibly even more so. He could carry it around for a few days, let Rey believe it to be his own. 

"And weighted, by request. We placed additional blades around this one, adding to the width, weight, and strength of the blade. Of course, the wielder will have to be well-trained and prepared to use a sword of such magnitude. Not that I'm assuming you've not met those requirements, Your Highness!" 

Before Lando can spur into another long-winded explanation of why he is never correct and Finn has set the standard for the world, Finn interrupts. 

"This exceeds my expectations, Lando!" Finn says, forming his mouth into what he hopes is a Lando-wide smile. At his use of Lando's name, Lando blushes and stammers, looking uselessly away from Finn. 

"Yes, yes. Well- of course, Your Highness. I'm glad you're pleased," he says. 

They spend a few minutes haggling over the price-- Lando, who took the stance of no payment whatsoever, vs Finn, who now felt an undying need to help the Underground financially. After a few minutes of this, Lando's absolute refusal to benefit in anyway from the crown won out. Finn left feeling empty, for some odd reason. 

He'd been losing too much in this life. First, with Rey-- 

Finn stops in his path, his train of thought crashing down a canyon. An unusual weight nestles in his overcoat pocket. Finn reaches in and pulls out the space book and feels every muscle in his body groan, for they knew what they now had to do. Finn flicks through the pages absentmindedly, mind now operating at full speed-- in his debate with Lando, he must have pulled the book from behind his back, but when did he hide it in his cloak? Did Lando notice? Will Lando tell Poe? What will Poe do besides have a fresh reason to antagonize Finn? 

He steps towards Poe's section and shouts as someone shoves into him. A weak _watch it, man!_ is directed in his general direction, but Finn is too busy landing straight on his face to pay much attention. His hands fail to protect him and he groans from the pressure of his cheek on the ground. People step over him and continue on. 

Finn lies in embarrassment and thinks, _Well, it's that kind of day, this might as well happen_ , when someone kicks his crown from where it fell a few inches from Finn's gaze. The child didn't notice, moving on with their task, which seemed to be running from an angry woman with at least a million beads around her neck. 

Finn groans again and makes to retrieve his crown. It rolls into another chamber of the Underground, this one unfamiliar to him. 

High ceilings cover a few carts of unusual goods. One carries round helmets with symbols plastered everywhere; another, rows of what looks to be butterfly and bird wings; and another with just cats. A child stands in the corner, waving her arms and jumping into the lane of traffic outside the safety of the chamber, then back in. 

"The world is ending! The comet comes!" she shouts. 

Finn does nothing but ignore her, his mind on mentally writing Poe an appropriate apology in his head for roughly the 87th time. After roughhousing through the crowds of merchants, which equates to walking through a group of bulls with an unnecessary amount of bags attached to them, Finn reaches Poe's section of the Underground. 

The sign with the crafty sword greets him as Lando exits, carrying a collection of papers and-- and several copies of the space book Finn snatched. 

Finn stops, which is not the optimum choice. People bump into him on all sides, somehow, and he's pushed into a narrow doorway. Fearing Lando to be midway to Poe with information about a familiar-looking thief, Finn follows him. 

From a distance. If archery taught him one thing, it was to assume that your prey were always aware of your position and intent. Finn hopes Lando isn't aware of either, for he's not even sure himself. What's his grand plan, stop Lando and beg for forgiveness? Dropkick him back to Poe's office and lock him in that hatch for a while, give him some timeout?

Alright. So Finn has two options: he can mind his own damn business, thank you very much, or he could follow. 

He really, _really_ hates himself.

\---

Lando disappears as soon as Finn arrives at the tavern.

Finn barely notices, for the tavern took all his mind to wrap around: cobwebs and tattered, sheer cloths hanging from rusty brass chandeliers; wooden tables everywhere around the room, filled with questionable characters that did not pay Finn any mind; drinks scattered everywhere and in abundance at the back of the room, where a shabby man drank more than served; candles _everywhere_ and a flute player attempting to hear even themselves over the talk of drunks. 

A new customer shoves Finn from behind and makes their way to the bar. Finn rolls against crumbling wall, hardly missing a few spiders and a table with three men. Two have almost half their teeth, and the third provides a surprisingly good death glare with just one eye. 

Finn leaps back with a short yelp, hands coming to cover his torso. 

Cyclops opens his mouth (probably to throw darts at him with his tongue), but Finn really does get the memo, and fucks off before the man can make him.

He stumbles through the remainder of the tavern, looking for an exit Lando could have used, while crossing every bone in his body that no one will recognize him with such a flimsy shawl across his features. He had no time to run to his chamber and grab a highly-decorated shawl, so he settled for one of the Underground's own. He'd purchased 'the finest around', as said by the seller. The itch around his neck and inability to breathe made him believe otherwise. Something tells him that these gentlemen will not hesitant to keep him for themselves, rather than return him to the castle. Tactical manuevers that guarantee a person floored in 3 seconds flash through Finn's mind his last few steps to the counter, as do Rey's fighting stances and use of adeptness rather than pure strength.

Being an archer, Finn's never had the pleasure of entertaining himself in actual combat. Sure, he can subdue someone, but many someones might be an issue. His gaze sweeps the bar, searching for potential weapons. Darts lodged in a dartboard to his right, forks and knives on every surface around him, and chalices in every hand. 

By the time he looks the drunk man at the counter in the eye and decides which greeting is less likely to deliver him outdoors on his ass, Finn's calmed himself a considerable amount. 

"My good sir! And how are you this evening?" Finn says. Because why not attempt to earn politeness from a potential enemy-- their bonding over a mutual, hopefully short conversation might prevent a brawl.

The man, however, focus with intent on Finn. He pushes himself up from cradling the bar's corner and rests his elbow on the counter. 

"Hm."

"… Great! And I'm doing well myself, but you probably don’t, uh. Nevermind. Say, I'm looking for a gentleman. Ran in here a few moments ago-- well, didn't run. I was running. I was chasing him but he didn't know this, so he was walking. Well, maybe a slight jog. Not! Not that I'm, uh, that I'm dangerous or anything. Although I'm sure you are! Not undermining you, sir, nope. But I have a good reason! Not, not that you care. I'm not going to kill him!" Finn rambles, wanting to kill himself. 

"Look-- have you seen him? I just need to ask him some questions."

The now not-so-drunk man stares at Finn with a disbelieving glint in his eyes. He eyes him up and down, lips coming up to his chalice. Fuzzy gold liquid leaks from his lips when he starts talking after seemingly deciding not to swallow his drink. 

"Hm."

"Well-- " Finn starts. 

The man gestures with the arm not supporting himself on the counter to beside him. His feet slip from under him and his chalice overturns, adding to his already wet shirt front. He pays no mind to this.

"I, uh, what?" Finn says. 

The man gestures again, this time with just his head. He turns around to fill up his drink. 

Finn leans over the counter and sees a rug. In fact, he sees the very rug that was on the floor in Poe's office. What's up with trapdoors and these two guys? 

He looks wide-eyed back to the now progressively-more-drunk man. "What does it mean?"

The man tips his glass back in response and pulls aside the rug. "Already been started. Better hurry." 

"No, I don't--" Finn says. 

Something shatters behind him, then a table erupts in laughter. Finn turns to find a man being waterboarded with ale, his companions having such a joly right time around him. A throat is cleared and Finn makes eye contact with the vessel of every murderous pig him and Rey have encountered in their forest escapades (which is, to say, the man is very ugly and has fire and death in his eyes). 

Finn pulls the shawl tighter around his face and Pigman squints, sipping at his drink thoughtfully. Almost like he's upon something.

"You say they've started already?" Finn says, turning back around with a flourish. He hops the counter and crouches at the door. There's no dust anywhere beneath, or on the rug as far as he can tell, while the remainder of the tavern floor behind the counter has hired dust as its interior designer. So the now blacked-out-drunk man was being truthful. 

Finn pictures Poe: yesterday, friendly with his coworkers, less friendly with the crown; not holding back in his criticisms of Finn, his father, or Kylo; his piercing gaze metaphorically strangling Finn at his departure; his failed promise; and a force, somewhere in the middle. 

Hell, if Rey knows him, how dangerous could he be?

\---

It turns out-- not dangerous, but not exactly trustworthy.

"The future is within our grasp! We only need a few more weeks. Poe is close to finding his exact location, he only narrow it down to a few square miles--"

"Yeah, I'm going out tomorrow to do some old-fashioned soul searching," Poe says. 

He looks great, is Finn's first thought upon seeing Poe again. Better than great, actually. 

He's hunching over a stack of papers in front of tables of attentive men and women, in a room just as dank as the one a floor up, but-- 

This room radiates a glow that's lacking from above, it's people speaking in hushes whispers among themselves. Chalices clink, though Finn can't find anyone wasted-- he can't even find anyone tipsy. Each person is perked and listening raptly to, who Finn is assuming, is the person in charge. She's saturated with luminous energy, light and potency and reason wafting off her in waves. It enters the fields of others and makes them sit slightly straighter, look higher above their heads at a goal that seems more possible than believed before. The flute from above filters through the crack in the stairwell door Finn has left. It's audible down here and quick, filling him with anxiousness and anticipation when added to the mystery he's encountered. 

He crouches behind the curtain separating him from them and peeks out. Paintings of the strange symbol line the walls, and a giant rug rests in the center of the room. Finn's starting to believe it represents something much, _much_ more superior than himself. 

"Dameron, I hope you find who we're looking for," the woman says. She's smirking but her expression is graver than should be. 

She continues, "For God knows what will happen if we do not. This business is already enough for treason. Hell, we crossed that line when someone brought in that battering ram." 

All eyes shift to what is indeed a battering ram at the side of the room. 

"And it's doing a _lovely_ job of holding our refreshments. I'd say that's less treasonous than waking up in the morning. In fact--" Poe says, rising from his work and nodding the woman over. "I believe it's better to keep it here rather than through the castle's front door." 

"I'd say it's better if we ram it right through the wall," someone says. "We need to make our move, Leia! It's been months of a bunch of Skywalker _this_ , Skywalker _that_. Well, I don't see him!" 

Finn can't tell who's speaking, but he watches Poe for his reaction. Poe switches spots with Leia, who sits to study what's flat on the table, therefore has no possible chance of being read by Finn. 

"Skywalker is a critical part of this plan. Without him, there's nothing," Poe says. 

"He'll help us, if we can just goddamn _find_ him. He wasn't like this before, he was better. Involved. Hell, he could've led this if I wasn’t here. We're missing something, we're missing something big. Skywalker will know how to adjust, which approach to assume best," Leia says.

"Yeah, well we don't know him. We know us, we know our skills, so why not take it by storm, eh?" the man says, earning a few shouts of support. 

Someone else says "King's not here! No time's better than the present!" 

"He's takin' care of the Empire for us. Hey, maybe he'll wipe himself out in the downfall, save us lot the trouble." 

(And, okay, Finn would be lying if he said he wasn't a little freaked about this. Kill the King? Would he be next if they succeeded? It's hard to size these guys up, but Finn's already decided that he'd let Poe do anything to him, but killing's kind of reaching endgame. Also-- his father.

 _He's fighting. He's in the Empire. He's coming back. He's fighting. He's in--_ )

Poe steps forward. "No! We're not killing anybody, alright?" 

Poe punches his fist in the air.

"But let's say we take it, huh?" Poe continues, tone mocking. "Let's say we march on in there with our big, strong battering ram and batter those bastards to the dirt. What next? Yeah, maybe we can hold back a few oversized toddlers in crowns, but what about a crowd of enraged townspeople? Half of them have a relationship that's deadlocked with the King- protection from the Empire in exchange for their labor, but they’ve got collateral, don't they? They've got fields and plenty of crops and family businesses or whatever, and we've got nothing but a bed Underground and a couple bolts. Then the people will be divided, and we'll have a whole new situation on our hands." 

Poe moves to wherever this guy is and Finn's rewarded with a magnificent view of his hair under the glow of the candles, enraptured in the energy of the room. The flute sounds from above, it's melody reaching critical high notes, and Finn wonders if an outing with Poe would resemble this. If they'd go to some hole-in-the-wall and drink in nothing but each other's light and listen to someone play a song persuasive enough to move the evening to something else. Finn wonders if Poe would talk to him with such passion and purpose in his voice as he is now, even if it was only to criticisms.

"I believe in what we're doing here, I believe in what Skywalker will cause. You want to burn out before we've even hit the candlestick? Cause I sure as hell don't. We need to burn long enough to spark a hundred other candlesticks," Poe says. "We'll find Skywalker. He'll bring back some hope into this lost cause of a kingdom."

"Or he'll build a new candlestick. Maybe, um, create a spark for, like, a second? And- and then go by a new batch of candlesticks. Cause the other ones have already burned," Lando says. 

Finn can see him now, sitting at a table near Leia. He's messing with his cloak, face sweating more than average. Or what's Finn's learning is a common expression for Lando. 

"…Right," Poe says. 

Leia sighs and stands, crossing her arms. "These maps are sloppy Dameron," she says. 

A pause. Another sigh. 

"But accurate, if your charts are anything to go by. I say another week, two at most, before we take action. We'll gather a group to locate Skywalker. I'll go with, get him here, and let him see what's he's so blindly left behind. Then we'll move from there. And--" Leia says, stopping her movements of gathering up the papers to look at the crowd. 

That energy shifts with her, almost suffocating Finn. Before she even speaks he already knows she's right. 

"Enough of this political shit. When it comes down to it, it doesn't matter what the situation is if we try to stage a siege. If we did make it past those gates, if we _did_ land ourselves a castle, a whole people to govern-- we'd make it the best goddamn government anyone's every seen. We'd get our lack of shit down in the Underground and move ourselves upstairs and act how leaders should act. We'd lead ourselves and this kingdom the absolute best. Then when the Empire comes, we'll fight. And we'll do that with that same light, with the very Force that's dragged our asses this far." 

"There will always be another Empire," Leia says. "And as long as there's an Empire, there's a Rebellion. And Skywalker has a place in this one, so we're not letting us tear ourselves apart before he gets here. If you're not down for it this far in, then leave. If not, pick yourselves up and get ready to find us a goddamn mystery man. Anything before we adjourn?" Leia says. 

Several long, fluid pauses. Then--

"Yes!" Lando says, shooting up from his seat. Then he seems to remember who he's talking to and composes himself. Quieter, "Yes, General." 

He takes the center of the room and pulls sketches out. The poor lighting makes it terribly inconvenient to spy on anything 2D, Finn realizes. Whatever's on the parchments earns a gasp from the tables, and then some people standing to inspect further. 

"I've finished the calibrations for our cart. Skywalker will be hidden under here, this here, and then when they do the preliminary checks at the outskirts…" 

Lando drones on and Finn realizes where he recognizes Leia from. Her features are always hidden under her helmet, but her eyes are the same. Piercing and ambitious, the eyes and attitude of a perfect General, leader of a branch of high-ranking knights. Finn presses back against the wall, hands shaking as they come up to wipe his brow. 

Exactly how many high-ranking officials are leading rebellions on the side? How many people are traitors to the crown?

He's been losing too much in this life. With Rey, constantly (she would say always), his father and their views on Finn's future, Poe and his whole cartload of issues with Finn, and the general displeasure of Kylo paired with his personality. And now a portion of the army returning to recuperate, his father among them, in a few days. 

Finn shut his eyes and presses his palms to the cold brick, letting the cracks indent his fingers. He presses hard and listens to the flute music growing placid and soft.

It's so loud in the Underground, he's realized. It's loud and warm and bursting with light-- flames from high candles, amber fire erupting from children, struggling mothers and fathers, even the llamas. Their future decided for them, their destiny to repeat day after day. Light, but no warmth. No life. 

This room is bursting with life, with a people itching to change _something_. They're going to destroy and create something for themselves with ambitions, dreams, a history driving them. Finn has no ambitions, he realizes. He has a history, sure, but no future where he's able to picture himself safe and content with the direction his father is pushing. His dreams are far, pulsing lifelines, extending in loops around him. And now, they're connecting to those of the rebels behind the curtains and dancing into each other. But-- 

The war. The Empire attacking Jakku, fighting for control of it. His father on the front lines, eyes ablaze with a future he believes in, a passion for success in something he's been building his whole life. A craftsmen of his own kind, with his own chances and sacrifices to make. He's pleading with death-- _a few lives, please, this is all I can offer!_ The King protects his people from evil, from a life ending too fast-- _there's not enough life for chaos here_ \-- and does it well. The greater good, the protection of those above the ground, where the sky is within reach (but, somehow, Finn feels the dreams of the Underground soaring higher than those outside the castle).

Kylo says to pay attention to the greater reward. Finn's not so sure he knows which that is. 

Whispering floats at the top of the stairwell. It drops to Finn's back, serving as a weight against his spine. He catches himself from falling down the final steps to the Rebellion. It weaves through his armpits and rushes along his ears, drowning him in _something_. And Finn's alive again, he feels. His heart grows redder and pulses with persistence, his skin liable to melt off if he doesn't go inside the room, if he doesn't talk to General Leia or Poe or even _Lando _\--__

__Finn peeks around the curtain again._ _

__Lando's rambling now, General Leia and a dozen other people intent on putting the finishing touches on his design. Poe's staring at Finn. Some people are replenishing themselves at the battering ram-buffet._ _

__Wait. Poe's staring at Finn?_ _

__Finn switches back to him in a second. And yep, sure, Poe's watching him now. His brows furrow and his arms are crossed (his favorite position around Finn, it seems). He glances to General Leia, who's paying neither any attention, then back to Finn. Poe's head tilts and now he's standing and walking to the stairs, eye contact delivering a _very_ clear message, oh _no_ \--_ _

__And Finn's up the stairs and on the street quicker than a comet._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kylo is taking the place of the king while he's away, but he still has to answer to finn for major decisions, such as economic changes. i'm not sure if i made that clear anywhere, so i've made it here :)  
> here's my inspo for the tavern (or cantina): http://static.messynessychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/tavern.jpg
> 
> i apologize a million times for the wait!! i have no excuse other than procrastination, but i am so excited to finish this story! i've mapped out about 14 chapters, but that number could grow and shrink as i write more. next chapter will be a HUGE plot development, and finn and poe will interact wayyy more.
> 
> also, how do you get rid of an extra note? two endnotes are showing up when there should only just be one, but this might just be my computer. 
> 
> thank you for reading!!! :)


	3. coming soon!

this fic is not dead!! i'm getting swamped by school work but plan to spend my eventual free time writing!! i'm really excited for the progression of this story, and therefore need a strong base. i'm not confident with the previous chapters and will most likely do some hard-editing before continuing _but_ this shouldn't take long!! 

i'm planning to write the whole story (prob 14 chapters) and stick to a publishing schedule so long gaps between chapters don't happen. so stay tuned!!

**Author's Note:**

> ocs mentioned in this chapter will not reappear! also, my inspo for Finn's castle: http://www.desertcastle.com/images/picsinorder/housefront/indexpic.gif
> 
> ik there are historical inaccuracies in here and i'm ok with that :) i'm sincerely sorry for the delay and have no good excuse other than procrastination. i already have a few more chapters written (i just need to proofread) so i'll start thinking up a schedule for updating. thank you for reading!!!
> 
> (for those of you who have read this before 6/8: i rewrote a large chunk of the middle of this chapter. i really wasn't happy with poe and finn's conversation and decided to save it for later...


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